on the tip of my tongue

For the third night in a row: a visitation of rain, cool and much-welcomed. i was about to say earlier today that they're Sumatra squalls -- the first two nights' rains came after midnight, at just about the right time for them to be the sort of storm that sweeps in from Sumatra, over the Malacca Straits. But tonight they've started early, so i don't know if i can put that label on them anymore. Maybe just a plain and simple 'rain' will do. We don't always need fancy words to dress up our knowledge of the world.
.
Coming after the lurid daytime heat and humidity that's been swallowing this island alive the past few months, these rains are so very welcome. But now, as i watch the sky irradiated by the white-heat of yet another lightning strike, i also worry about the pair of olive-backed sunbirds that have been building a nest under the eaves of the back porch. i worry about their half-finished nest, that it might be destroyed by the wind. And i worry about the birds themselves, and hope they find good shelter in the storm.
.
i've come across a similar story before somewhere -- this story about encountering the other creatures that we share our planet with and learning to worry about them and therefore to care. i just can't remember where. It's that feeling you get when you have a word on the tip of your tongue, somewhere hovering between your mouth and nose and eyes, and you just. Can't. Remember. It. Argh.
.
.